The Walk

A poem which captures the tenacity of the human spirit in the midst of a crisis, specifically walking home from Carlow town after a night out. Many have experienced the long and lonely walk. Few are ever the same after it. If you are one of the many, this poem is for you. Just know that you are not alone. We walk right beside you.

The birds they sing and taunt,

Melodies with no remorse,

You wave down every passing car,

Flogging a dead horse.

Thirteen minutes past six,

You're the only one,

Eleven went out tonight,

Ten have been and gone.

They said they tried to call you,

They're only telling lies,

They'll live to regret this snakey act,

You're plotting their demise.

Heavy rain batters your soul,

Batters the tarmac too,

Diesel shirt dripping wet,

Sniffle. Cough. Achoo.

The winding road it never ends,

Lines of broken white,

The morning sun clocks in for work,

Darkness into light.

Teeth chattering in a dry mouth,

You shiver and you shake,

The others cosy in their beds,

You're still very much awake.

Big blue bungalow on your right,

Pale pink bicycle in the yard,

Stealing from a child is wrong,

So you leave your credit card.

Uphill is a challenge,

Downhill is a breeze,

Stabilisers crack and snap,

You fall and break your knees.

You see the light at the end of the tunnel,

Through blood, sweat and tears,

The light dims and a taxi stops,

Your luck has changed it appears,

Polluting the upholstery,

Projectile vodka, Coke and chips,

You wipe your face with a crumpled receipt,

Still some curry on your lips.

A wry smile, you close your eyes,

Thinking of a simpler time,

When friends didn't ditch you,

And casinos didn't take your every dime.

The car pulls up outside your home,

You've reached the promised land,

Not all heroes wear capes,

You shake the driver's hand.

I am no hero I am Rashid,

And I'm from the State of Palestine,

You puke all over my beautiful car,

That's a two hundred euro fine.